


sandy socks

by ColorMeHazelnut



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16092236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorMeHazelnut/pseuds/ColorMeHazelnut
Summary: What music is good right now, Dan thinks. What sets the mood? Maybe he lets the sound of the crashing waves fills his ears. This kind of music is good too.





	sandy socks

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to my beta [quercussp](https://quercussp.tumblr.com/) for having the sharpest eye and being so supportive of my writing. I wrote this the day I went to the beach. Prompt: holiday

He hears the sea before he sees it. Hears the _thump thump clunk_ of their slippers hitting the wooden boards. Feels the scratchy material of the picnic blanket brushing against his leg. A mosquito screams _eeeeeeeee_ and he swats it away.

The sea is louder now. The smell of salt water surrounds them, everywhere. He breathes in, deep. The night breeze brushes his curls, gently caressing them and flops his hair teasingly. The sand feels uncomfortable at first. Tiny rocks rubbing the skin of his sole and his slippers, between the spaces of his toes. Everywhere.

The beach only lighted by the dim yellow lights, and Phil is a beacon of light in the darkness. He is wearing only a loose bright shirt and his swimming shorts, hand swinging the basket he's carrying. He is humming quietly, tugging the short sleeve of Dan's shirt, pulling him towards...somewhere.

Somewhere...where?

Does it matter? It feels like it _should_. He has trusted Phil for so many years. A guiding lighthouse in the most unbearable storms. Standing on the highest cliffs, touching the skies, reaching towards the heavens. But as firm as the rocks below. Slightly crooked. Off colour. Not your usual white and red. But his light is brighter, _warmer_ than the sun itself as if yelling across the roaring sea saying _I'm here! I'm here! You're there. That's too far! Come here. I'm here. You're lost. From here. From me. Come back. Find your way._

_Your way home. To me._

So where and anywhere at all if that ever makes sense. It probably doesn't. Does it matter?

No. He feels the sand tickling his feet, no longer uncomfortable, but like warm slightly shifty socks. The breeze is suddenly shy, and he is grateful they can stay here longer without getting cold. Phil stops, arms on his waist, and he looks at the sea, squinting at it as if he could find anything in the darkness. Dan sets the blanket down. Apparently this is their spot for the night. What Phil deems perfect is sometimes perfect for Dan too.

They both kick their slippers off. Dan sinks his feet deep into the sand. Phil strolls towards the shore, hands deep in his pockets. He stops when the waves lick the tips of his toes. He watches the darkness, back muscles slowly expanding. And relaxes.

What music is good right now, Dan thinks. What sets the mood? What mood is he actually going for here? He's not sure. Dan presses play, puts it on the lowest volume, and decides to turn it off. Maybe he lets the sound of the crashing waves fills his ears. The whistling sound of the winds. The _shhhh shhhh shhh_ of his feet dragging across the sand. This kind of music is good too.

Phil is still watching the sea. Standing so still, but a slight sway to whatever tune he's listening in his head. Doing nothing, but being absolute everything. Being here, even he is there, a few footsteps away. Always beside him, warm and solid. Now Dan's feeling a little cold, which is ridiculous because Phil was just here not a minute ago and he's not going anywhere where Dan's not, but well…

He takes out his phone, films Phil standing there, soaking the sea air, doing absolutely nothing but just standing there and being _Phil_ and that's enough to make his heart clench. He walks towards him, until he is shoulder to shoulder and even _that_ is not close enough so he presses even closer and looks out at the sea.

Darkness is all he sees. No moon. Maybe a star or two. The waves come closer and Dan hates getting his feet wet so moves and now his front presses against Phil's back.

“What are you looking at?” He whispers, because it feels wrong somehow to break the silence of the night. He whispers because he can slot his chin at the crook of Phil's shoulder, mouth so near to his ear, his neck. His skin ever so close, he can just _bite._

Phil shivers.

“I wanna live here,” Phil answers and not quite answering but Dan agrees with it. Their vacation house is spacious. Natural light seeping into the large windows. Birds sings in the morning, afternoon and evening. At a distance and sometimes right by their bedroom window. Trees are so tall and it's all just so full of life here. The beach just a walk away. Dan wonders if he can get the exact same house back in London. Maybe not.

But maybe somewhere near?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and [reblogs](http://colormehazelnut.tumblr.com/search/phanfic) are highly appreciated!


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